


Monsters are real, darling. They just look like people.

by therighteouswriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rape Fantasy, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24349240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therighteouswriter/pseuds/therighteouswriter
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	Monsters are real, darling. They just look like people.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzrielRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzrielRose/gifts).



Dean knew when Sam was trying to bait him. His little brother was never sly about it.  


He'd always lace his fingers with Dean's, kisses turning unimaginably soft before he flashed his big brother that sweet, flirty smile. It was painfully obvious now, especially since Sam had started making a habit out of teasing Dean so blantly and without shame while they were in public together. Curious fingertips dancing up the length of Dean's inner thigh once they'd sat down at a restaurant for dinner. Warm lips pressing against his neck, light and playful, when Dean stopped to look at something in the grocery store, clearly trying to distract him. Every heated glance and come get me grin driving Dean absolutely crazy until he was practically feral. Desire gnawing at him with razor sharp fangs like a starving nightmarish creature. It's long, deadly claws ripping apart Dean's already skewed sense of morality until he was too weak to resist those big innocent puppy dog eyes. And the only thing he could think about was making his sweet baby brother scream.  


But still, Dean knew exactly what Sam was up to. He knew his brother and the ravenous monster gorging itself on his weaknesses were working together. Two vile, twisted little things, but only one of them had the benefit of an angelic disguise.  


They tempted Dean. Wanted him at his worst. All of the time Sam spent baiting him, making Dean hate himself was just they sick version of foreplay in this fucked up little game.  


And it always started with Sam coming on to Dean. His little brother would practically maul him, so eager and willing and starved for it, luring Dean to bed the minute they got back to the motel. He'd let Dean get between those long, skinny legs without hesitation; beg his big brother to fuck him hard and fast, but as soon as Dean gave Sam what he wanted, all that urgency and need would disappear completely. And just like that, Dean's pliant little fuckdoll would turn into a combative, caged animal, snarling and snapping at him in a desperate attempt to get away. Sam's voice so small and pained (and everything his big brother wanted to hear) when he whined, "Stop, Dean please. You're hurting me."  


Fuck, Sam always looked so scared and humiliated like this. His muscles flexed and strained as he tried to pry himself out of Dean's grip. But Sam wasn't stupid, he knew what he was doing, and he knew that struggling would only egg Dean on.  


His dramatic, over the top effort to escape pulling a deep, guttural groan from his brother's throat when he tensed up and "accidentally" clenched tight around Dean's aching cock. So hot and wet and dirtysickwrong that it made Dean's skin crawl.  


And it was times like this, when he'd let himself go too far, that Dean knew they needed to be careful. Because this was incredibly dangerous; and the frightened little thing wiggling in Dean's grasp had quickly become that familiar, annoying itch between his shoulder blades. The one that Dean could never reach, but would have gladly broken his own back to get at if it meant shredding it (Sam) to bloody ribbons with his nails.  
"No, Dean! Stop!"  


"Oh, now you want me to stop? Fucking tease," Dean gritted out, voice pitch black and tarnish beyond all recognition as Sam groaned and clawed furiously at his chest.  


Honestly, sometimes Dean couldn't even believe how good of an actor his baby brother was. Or how Sam just knew, without a word spoken between them, that the tears welling up in those pretty eyes couple with that terrified look he was giving Dean only fed into his big brother's sick fantasy. Made him want to fuck Sam harder, more violently. Like a God damn savage. The two of them fighting and clawing at each other, struggling in the sheets until Dean was bleeding. A fresh cut, split open wide and oozing, just above his left eye; the evidence of Sam's defiance running down the sides of Dean's neck in the form of angry dark red scratches.  


That's when Sam started to cry harder, because he knew what those big salty crocodile tears did to Dean. Never hesitating to use them like a ball-peen hammer to chip away at what tiny bit of sanity his big brother had left.  


He thrashed and writhed beneath his brother, pleading with everything he had for Dean to stop. Hips bucking wildly until Dean got a hand around his throat, tight, unforgiving grip making Sam freeze on the spot. The younger man gasping for air between whimpers as Dean leaned down, teeth bared against Sam's flushed skin and growled, "Shut up."  


Of course, Sam doesn't listen, just screams louder and struggles to get free. But the strong hand around his neck squeezes tighter, blurring his vision. Lack of oxygen making it difficult for Sam to remember why he wanted to get away in the first place.  


"That's it," Dean whispers when he feels the tension start to drain from Sam's body. He's still begging for Dean to stop, but his voice is weaker now, eyes fluttering close with another particularly vicious snap of Dean's hips. "Just take it, slut. We both know you're fucking gagging for it."  


Sam groans at that, nails digging deep into Dean's skin as he starts to squirm again, trying to keep up his little act.  
"You're disgusting, Dean! Let me go!"  


Dean smiles, bright and sinister, at the insult because fuck, his baby brother was good. He knew just what to say to get under Dean's skin. Knew exactly how to coax the darkness out of his brother's soul and give it life. Like feeding gasoline to a destructive, insatiable flame.  


"I'm disgusting, little brother?" Dean asks, laughing cruelly with another brutal snap of his hips. Rough, dirty grind of their bodies making Sam cry out and arch off the mattress, his pink cheeks still slick with tears. "I'm not the one on my back getting fucked like a helpless bitch and lovin' every minute of it."  


Dean barely gets the words out before he feels Sam's fingers tangle in his hair, yanking with malice. Clearly the truth struck a nerve with his little brother.  


"I hate you," Sam hissed, Dean making him pay for the blant lie with his teeth. Razor sharp and possessive, sinking into his little brother's exposed neck as he continued to pound Sam's tight ass. Every breathless curse and agonizing scrape of Sam's bitten nails across his sweaty skin fueling the darkness inside Dean that his brother had so reckless awoken. Pleasure, white-hot and icky sweet, bubbling up in the pit of Dean's gut because he knew the deeper he fucked his baby brother, the harder Sam would fight. The two of them more than willing to tear each other apart to get what they wanted. To win the game.  


It was terrifying and intoxicating and Dean was starting to wonder if Sam (and that horrible little moster he'd befriended) had really even baited him this time.  


Fuck, what if Dean had let himself get trapped?


End file.
